Under the Bowler hat
by Greatcow
Summary: Banesaw and Roman Torchwick decide to finally settle their differences. And in the process, Roman reveals a bit about his past and how some horrors are best left forgotten. Featuring a very well crafted OC adaptation of that nameless white fang lieutenant and his trusty chainsaw thanks to the folks at RWBY/G. Quick little fic and then i'm back to Legacy! Many thanks to rwby/g!


**Bit of a different update this week. I decided to take a small break from writing Legacy and crank out a fic thanks to the folks from the RWBY/G thread on 4chan. Thanks to some great writeanons, they expanded a story behind that currently nameless White Fang Lieutenant and his nasty chainsaw. I saw this as a great attempt to flesh out a potential backstory for Roman, and why he remains so...dapper. Hope you enjoy!**

Something unusual was going on at the base. There was actual downtime for once. After a recent raid that resulted in an much higher than normal haul of dust, it was decided that the White Fang would lay low for a while to recover their losses and try to process and parcel out the several metric tons of stolen dust they had managed to lift from the harbor.

For the white fang lieutenant known as Banesaw, this left him with the annoying task of trying to tally the total haul, assigned to him simply by virtue of having the most math experience out of the whole bunch of goons assigned to him. It was tedious, frustrating work for a man who mainly solved problems with his meter long custom chainsaw and not a 10-key and a pen. After a couple of hours of punching numbers, he shoved back the cheap desk he'd been provided with a grunt and stood up to take a walk around their base.

As he walked around, his comrades gave him a wide berth. Always a..."passionate" man even amongst the more vocal members of his organization, right now he looked particularly hacked off, even with his full face mask he always wore wherever he went. He couldn't understand why he was so frustrated with their progress lately. They were making major repeated hits against the Schnee Dust Company and this latest one was their biggest yet. Surely that had to mean something shouldn't it? They had the entire Vale police force running in circles trying to figure out how they were making all of these attacks, and had no arrests to show for it. Dust prices were skyrocketing as their attacks had put a major dent in the supply of commercially available dust and yet...

And yet...it was all just dust robberies. Nothing more. At least as far as he could see. Maybe that was it...they weren't really making any progress with Faunus rights, they weren't making any major hits against that hated military juggernaut that was the Atlas forces. They were simply knocking off dust shipments and becoming nothing more than commentary on the nightly news and a punchline for comedians in comedy clubs in downtown Vale. He gritted his teeth in frustration. This wasn't supposed to be going like this, surely they should be doing more, surely they-

As he rounded a corner he finally came across an outlet for his frustration. Roman Torchwick. That foppy eye-liner wearing son of a bitch who was supposedly in charge of this whole operation. At least at this level anyway. He had seen him talking deferentially to some raven haired woman in a dress with bright glowing eyes once or twice on occasion. She probably was the real one in charge, but she left the day-to-day operations to him and that silent multi-colored hair girl that seemed to follow him around wherever he went. He was conversing with another White Fang member and going over something on a Scroll-Pad when Banesaw walked up to him.

"We need to talk Torchwick. Now."

For anyone else to hear that gravel-on-sandpaper voice with that kind of tone directed at them, it usually caused them to wince or back away in fear. It certainly had that effect on the masked glasses wearing member Torchwick had been talking to. He seemed to flinch from the sound.

For Roman he barely seemed to notice. He actually sighed in slight exasperation. The parasol-wielding female (bodyguard?) however lithely hopped off a nearby shipping container and walked over. She stopped nearby at an angle to him, not directly interposing herself between himself and Roman, but letting everyone know she was aware of what was going on. She looked at him without saying a word, but the glance she gave said enough.

"Hhhhh...'Banesaw' was it? Can this wait for later? There's no recruiting parties happening for a while, especially not after that little incident with that Faunus girl, so you don't have to worry about making one of your little speeches, riveting as I'm sure they are."

He clenched his fists in mounting annoyance. "No Torchwick, we talk right now, this isn't about some stupid speech. This is about me and you and our operations."

The girl shifted slightly closer, hand slowly moving towards her holstered parasol. Clearly she didn't like his attitude but he frankly didn't care. Roman meanwhile dismissed the other White Fang member with a wave and lit another one of his frequent cigars before turning to him.

Taking a deep puff and exhaling he looked up at him. "Fine, since you asked so nicely, lets get this over with. Unlike you, I don't have the luxury of dilly-dallying all over the place." He glanced at the girl and raised his hand with small shake of his head. She seemed to question his action with a quizzical look and a cocked head before disappearing in a blink of his eyes. "Now then, where do you want to have this little heart-to-heart? I'd suggest your office, but somehow that little desk over there by the forklift doesn't seem all that private to me you know?" He smiled with obvious mirth at the situation.

"Fine, lets talk in the processing lab, it's quiet now anyway until we get the dust unpacked." Banesaw growled. He moved off towards one of the walls of the giant warehouse where a series of large portable trailer houses had been set up for dust processing.

"Lead the way big guy." Roman gestured his hand in mock graciousness.

* * *

They entered the lab and dismissed the two scientists that were in there. Locking the door behind him Banesaw turned to face Roman leaning against a lab table examining a chunk of raw dust ore. He looked up and grinned again.

"So what's this all about Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Brooding? Need more oil for your precious chainsaw? Or advice on how to clean that mask of yours? I'd give you bathing advice but somehow I think that would fall on deaf ears with the smell coming off of you."

"You really love hearing yourself talk you know that? It's irritating as hell." He folded his massive arms and stared down at this little twig of a man. _How the hell was someone like this in charge?_

"I have to admit it sounds better than most of what passes for conversation with you White Fang guys. Between the growling, the grunting and the shouting I find I have more fulfilling conversations with Neo than I do with any of you. Not for lack of trying anyway..." He tipped his bowler hat at Banesaw. "I do believe this is the first time you've had an actual conversation with me that didn't involve asking for supplies or men. Bravo."

 _You insufferable prick._ He silently raged but kept it inside for now. "What's going on Roman?"

"Come again?"

"What are we doing? What's our operational or tactical goal here? The White Fang partnered with you and your group because you promised us you'd help us secure better rights and protection for the Faunus people. You said we'd be making strikes against Atlas." He unfolded his arms and moved a few steps closer. "Why isn't that happening?"

Roman did not appear intimidated by Banesaw's advance. "Yes we did promise you those things, and yes we're still committed to it. You just need to be patient . Revolution doesn't happen in a day."

"Bullshit. All we've done is rob dust shops and crash dust trains for the last several months. We're sitting on literally tons of dust and all we do is accumulate more of it. We haven't fought a single Atlas patrol since that one shipment 3 months ago. I'm asking again. Why aren't we doing more to help the Faunus?"

Roman's smile finally left his face for the first time since the conversation started. "I know it's tough for you White Fang guys to think beyond which throat you're going to rip out next, or which police station you plan to firebomb, but you need to start thinking about the bigger picture here. Faunus rights are fine and dandy and all, but that won't guarantee them safety, it won't stop Atlas. And ultimately, what the Faunus want and think are pretty small potatoes in the grand scheme of things anyway."

"So we're just cannon fodder then is it? Just pawns to be thrown away?" Banesaw asked quietly. His rage was about to burst through his self control. _I could snap his neck right now and no one would know..._

"I wouldn't go that far..." He said in a somewhat placating tone, and a shrug. His signature grin returned to his face. "...but honestly with how the whole world sees you guys right now, you're pretty much just only a hop-skip-and a jump above that. Nothing personal just-"

With a roar of fury Banesaw charged at him. "YOU SON OF A BITCH I'LL FUCKING-"

Roman slipped sideways faster than he thought possible. Before he had taken more than a few steps he felt the back of Roman's cane pressed against the back of his skull.

"Wooahhh now there big guy. Lets not get too crazy here. I'd rather _not_ have to explain to the rest of your group why I had to paint the insides of this lab with the contents of that thick skull of yours, you're kinda popular with them and all. But you need to calm down right now." He paused then became more cheerful. "You're sounding really upset you know? Have you had breakfast? I always find myself really cranky if I haven't had something good to eat to start my day."

Banesaw didn't dare move. Roman's would-be casual tone was clear enough despite the levity. He didn't have his chainsaw with him to even the playing field. "You pompous pansy asshole. You think this all pretty funny don't you? You're just like the rest of society. Spitting on us because it's convenient to do so."

"Ok first, spare me the melodrama, I get enough of it from Emerald and Mercury. Second, you're not even a faunus, so why should it matter to you so damn much?"

Banesaw whipped around but held back from the barrel of Roman's cane gun. It was still pointed at his head. "It matters to me and that's enough. Why the hell would you care? You obviously haven't given a damn about anyone else in your life. What the hell would you know of pain and loss except if one of your suit jackets gets dirty or torn?!"

They were silent for a moment. Neither breaking eye contact with each other. Roman finally spoke. His grin was still there, but there was a quiet intensity to his eyes that wasn't there a few moments before.

* * *

"Alrighty Mr. Woe-is-me. I think I get where this is coming from. You want to know how I do things around here and why I'm in charge? Fine. I'll oblige you. I'm going to tell you a story. It's going to require some imagination on your part though. You think you can handle that?" He whipped his cane down and walked towards the table he had been leaning on when they first entered.

"What the hell are you going on about?" Banesaw growled at him.

"Ah ah ah! If you keep up that asshole attitude you don't get to hear the story!" He grinned even wider as he picked up the chunk of raw dust ore he had been looking at earlier. "Now...before we begin, I sadly have to get a bit technical here, but I'll try to use small words to make it easier for you..."

Banesaw folded his arms but said nothing.

"Right then...so as a primer. You're familiar with dust right?" He didn't wait for a response. "Of course you are. So Dust. It comes out of the ground like this..." He motioned to the chunk he held in his hand. "Fairly stable, not really toxic or anything as long as you're not huffing the particles during mining, you're ok. With me so far?"

He nodded.

"Good. Now, we have fully processed dust that comes in these handy dandy containers like this..." He held up a vial of Red Burn dust. "...or these large crystals for larger needs..." He held up a large Blue Frost crystal in his other hand. "Also, fairly stable. Won't really cause any problem unless you're chucking it off a roof or throwing it into a fire."

He set them down and held up a beaker full of clear liquid with odd misshapen crystals floating within it. "But what about when dust is being processed? See that's where things get interesting!" He gently jiggled the beaker. The floating crystals began to glow with a bright yellow color when before they had been black and dormant.

"You see in order to get dust from its raw state to the finished state we all know and love, it has to undergo some rather nasty processing. Mainly involving really toxic chemicals or in the case of some varieties, getting placed into a live nuclear reactor to bring it to its finished state."

"What the hell does this have to do-" Banesaw started.

"You keep interrupting the story!" Roman responded with a patronizing tone and grin. "Now then, imagine if you will that you and your lovely Faunus wife-"

"How did you know about-" He then stopped, realizing what he had just revealed in his shock.

"Please Mr. Woodchipper, I make it a point to know as much as I can about whom I'm dealing with. Call it personal prudence. I know about your wife. Yes, it was terrible what happened to her, but anyway that doesn't have any bearing on the story right now does it? So imagine if you and your wife had decided to settle in the lovely mountain town of Prantyat instead of here in Vale."

He started walking around the lab twirling his cane jauntily as he leaned his head back in contemplation. Banesaw had heard of that town before...a small town by a very old dust refinery...wasn't that where-

"Now, lets keep our imaginations going. Lets imagine you're settled in Prantyat. You've got a a little baby Banesaw running around. Maybe he's into crocheting or something other than stabbing implements, who knows. Life is going pretty well for you. You have a stable job in town pushing paper at city hall. It's boring but it pays the bills and gets you discounts at pretty much everything in town. Nearly everyone in this town works for the Schnee Dust Refinery. It's been there forever, right on the edge of the lake nearby."

He stopped and looked at Banesaw, still grinning, still staring with that odd intense look that was beginning to unsettle a man who cleaved people in half for a living. "So...life is good. You're stable. Not a care in the world. Wife works as a secretary for the office at the factory and you're working city hall. Neighbor takes care of your kid while you're both at work. A perfect...happy...family."

He continued to walk again. Twirling his cane faster and faster until it blurred into a whizzing circle. "Now imagine, one day. The workers at the factory decide to do some unorthodox testing with some new unrefined dust ore they came across. Never been worked with before, but they decide to start processing it anyway before sending it off to headquarters to analyze it. Now imagine something goes wrong. Really wrong..." He snapped his cane to a stop and turned to face Banesaw again, his face still plastered with that insane grin and eyes wide as saucers with pinpricks for pupils. Goosebumps had started to break out over his skin as he stared into a new and terrifying form of Roman Torchwick.

"Tell me my blenderrific companion...have you ever seen a dust refinery reactor go critical?"

* * *

"I...I can't say that I have..." He responded quietly.

"Oh it's quite a sight! It's like someone gathered all of the fireworks that are so popular at those annoying New Harvest festivals into one place and set them off all at once. So much multicolored smoke erupting from everywhere...and that's _after_ the explosion that you feel from miles away! It's great! So now imagine that your quiet little town is treated to just such an event. It's a nice warm summer's day and just like that in the middle of the day...BOOM!" He jerked his hands up in the air suddenly causing Banesaw to jump back in surprise.

"Clouds and clouds of multi-colored smoke going everywhere! No one knowing what's going on!...what's happened to the plant? That's never happened before! Well gosh we should see what's going on shouldn't we? What about the militia, shouldn't they handle something like that?" His voice took on a mocking tone of dumb villagers trying to figure things out.

"So now imagine for a bit those clouds start coming into town. Just blanketing the town in a Technicolor coat of dust particles, doesn't that sound like fun, I'm sure it does doesn't it?" He leaned now closer to Banesaw, leering like some kind of hideous spectre form his childhood nightmares. "Only those clouds aren't fun at all no no no...remember how I was talking about how dust being processed is some of the nastiest stuff around? Yeah...now we have clouds of it entering the city!"

He pulled back again, looking past him into something only he could see. He turned and picked up the vial of the red dust he had been handling earlier. "Do you know, the Schnee dust company actually has a different name for this dust? When it's going through processing?"

"It's not called Burn?" Banesaw was familiar with that type, it _was_ the most popular dust used for firearms after all.

"Nah, you see this dust, when its in what they call the "midway" point, has a different name. They call it 'Bonfire'. Some nice little scientist in the Schnee Dust Company came up with this convenient name after it was discovered it has a nasty little effect on human tissue when directly exposed to it..."

"So we're back to our imagination again!" He set the dust vial down and began to pace again, gesturing wildly as he went. "The clouds are now entering the city. Somehow you find your wife, she was lucky and wasn't near the factory when it went firework central. You find her one a side street coming out of a red dust cloud and she collapses in your arms..." He spread his arms wide. "...Ahhh the perfect scene, husband saving wife from a natural disaster to escape in the nick of time. Just like those summer disaster flicks that always seem to come out every year..."

He dropped his hands. "Only...it's not one of those big budget blockbusters. No, it's more like one of those new horror films that are getting popular today, you know where they're big into the gore and special effects? Well, I'm sure _you_ know what I mean..." He looked at Banesaw with a knowing grin.

He grunted but said nothing. He wasn't sure where this was going, but was still curious to hear more.

"Your wife...well you do try to escape. You try so hard to make it back home, to get some essentials before evacuating the city. Just like in the movies...and just like in the other type of movies, you don't make it. She starts reacting...well not her really...her bones start reacting to the red dust she inhaled earlier. You then find out why they call it 'Bonfire'...it reacts with your bones. Burns them from inside out...well more specifically it reacts with your bone marrow causing it to liquefy and spontaneously combust inside of you...nasty thing really. And then your wife turns into the human equivalent of barbecued pasta right in front of you. Just...flops into a bloody mess right in your arms..."

For the first time in a very long while, the butcher of hundreds of men and mechs alike, was genuinely disturbed by what he was listening to. He had heard bits and pieces of what had gone wrong with that disaster, but it had been only that. Fragments. Covered up by the SDC's private security forces, with the help of Atlas...whole town declared an exclusion zone...nasty creatures made of pure nightmares...

"You're terrified of course! Why, it's not everyday you get to watch a human or faunus turn into the equivalent of Humanoid Carbonara right in front of you!" He was speaking almost manically now, the grin still plastered on his face. "So you do what any protective parent would do, you rush back to your house to at least try and save your son, your little bouncing baby Banesaw...and now, I hope you still have that active imagination running because I bet you're wondering what happens when you expose a young baby to the effects of half-way processed Sunburst Yellow dust like this here!" He jerked his thumb over to the beaker he had shaken earlier, the suspended crystals were still glowing a dull yellow.

"Oh man, that's even more interesting. Imagine taking a paring knife and peeling the skin off their flesh. Well actually it's more efficient than that. It just straight up melts it off. Apparently the dust particles react badly to skin and hair cells or something..." He waved his hands in annoyance. "...whatever it doesn't really matter. At the end of the day, if you've ever wanted to just, free yourself of the skin from your body, this will do the trick! The best part is, it doesn't touch anything else! Just the skin and hair! So you get to live the last few minutes or your life suffocating, overheating, and bleeding to death because your skin decided to just take a vacation...and you get to see it happen before your eyes in your living room to your only child! The SDC even name a condition after what happens to your kid! Isn't that something? Those smart little scientists call those people "Skinwalkers"! Because apparently if their files are to be believed, this has happened before and the victims have lived long enough to actually walk around before they die."

"And!..." He lowered his voice and walked towards Banesaw again, not taking his eyes off him for a moment. "The very best...part...of all of this...is that somehow...in this great...terrible event that's happening...by grace of whatever malevolent son of a bitch for a God that may or may not exist...the dust doesn't affect you. Your bones don't explode, your skin doesn't melt off. You get to watch it happen to your family, your neighbor, your town over a period of several hours. You get a front row seat to watch human popcorn get made. You get to witness it all..."

* * *

"Stop it." Banesaw growled back at him. He had enough, the talk of the kid was just too much for him to stomach. "I get it, you've been through some terrible shit. So what was the point of this whole story huh? Is this just some competition for you to see who had the shittier life growing up?"

"Aww you didn't let me finish! Don't you want to imagine what it's like watching Atlas purge your entire town of the mutants their little escapade created? Or the SDC forming a perimeter zone around your home that you can never go back to? Come on we've got time, I'm sure we can come up with some fun stories!" He was actually laughing now, thoroughly enjoying rattling the larger man.

"I said stop it!" Yelled Banesaw. "I don't want to hear anymore of this. This was a waste of time. You're probably going to have a big laugh about this to that multi colored freak you call a partner later."

"Oooo...sounds like I'm hitting a nerve there big guy. How about it? Do _you_ want to tell me a story? You were such a good listener, I can be one too if you want to share..."

"You...how the hell can you be so damn cavalier about all this?! About what happened to you?"

Roman smiled more broadly. "See, that right there is the difference between you and me."

"What are you-?"

"You wear your tragedy and history like a weight around your neck. It pulls you down and you show it off the whole damn world. People don't see you, they just see the brooding chainsaw psychopath and nothing more. Now ME, my tragedy is neatly buried 7 feet underground in two small boxes inside a toxic wasteland. That's where it belongs."

For once Banesaw didn't have a retort. He just gaped at the man in front of him. "You might think it cruel. Heartless even. I call it...realistic." He adjusted his suit and gloves in a relaxed fashion, almost lazily even.

"What happened, was monstrous. Terrible even. But it happened. It's the past. I can either let it control me like it does for you, or I can go out, buy awesome clothes, eat at great restaurants, and make some amazing heists."

"So that's it? You just bury your past and forget about it? How can you just do that?" He shook his head finally. "...You really are heartless...and people call _me_ a monster..."

"Yes actually. It's buried, not forgotten, but it's gone. You could say I've mastered the art of Selfish Zen or something. The point is, life is too goddam short. Tomorrow we all could be part of a dust heist gone wrong and end up nothing more as furry spaghetti. We could all be some Grimm's breakfast out there and not be able to do anything about it."

He straightened the sash around his neck and seemed to be readying himself to leave. "So I'm going to keep making heists..."

He walked towards the door.

"...I'm going to keep looking dapper..."

He was almost to the door then stopped.

"And I will have great times with those that matter to me..."

He tapped his cane sharply twice on the floor. The multi-colored hair girl suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She gave a casual glance to Banesaw, seemed to decide things were ok, and then looked back to Roman with an impish grin. He returned the grin with another.

"...and I will keep living each day like it's going to be my last."

He unlocked the door and was gone.

Banesaw sat there for a moment, trying to absorb what he had just heard. He couldn't believe it. Roman Torchwick surviving that? That scrawny little poof of a man survived that hell and seemed no worse the wear for it. If anything he seemed to be trying to enjoy life even more than anyone here...

"Still dresses like a weirdo though..." He shook his head again and headed off back to his desk to finish his work.

Fin.


End file.
